


Taller Than Giants

by exybee



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Alternate Universe - Photographer, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-03 22:30:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14006223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exybee/pseuds/exybee
Summary: Neil's a photography student who's trying to get an ESPN sports photography internship, Andrew's an early childhood education major who's definitely not in love with his best friend, and Allison, Dan, and Matt are only half aware that Neil and Andrew are soulmates.The AU in which Neil loses his keys, Andrew drinks Michelobs, and the gang finally cashes in on a three year old bet.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There are... so many things I should be doing... and yet... 
> 
> Anyway, I've got this sectioned into three chapters, but here's the good news: THEY'RE ALREADY WRITTEN.
> 
> YEAH. I KNOW. 
> 
> This is a little bit of a teaser, so it's a short chapter, but I hope you enjoy all the same!
> 
> (Listen to South by Sleeping at Last)

_Some truths were sewn into our DNA._  
_Some truths unravel and fray._  
_Some truths keep growing taller than giants._  
_Some truths take our breath away._  
_Some truths get tired_  
_The longer we wait._

* * *

Neil was five years old when he took his first photograph.

It had been an accident for the most part. He had found the disposable camera, cheap and discolored, underneath a pile of unwanted mail and tea-stained mugs.

He remembered clumsy fingers turning the thumbwheel until it stopped. The press of his cheek against the kitchen window as he tried to capture the storm clouds that lined the sky like soft, gray wool. The curve of his mother’s mouth as she plucked the camera out of his hands, only to hand him the developed prints a week later.

They were dark and off-centered, but Neil held onto them anyway, tucking them underneath his pillow until Mary had brought him her old jewelry box, black and worn at the edges.

Sometimes, on nights when his parents’ shouts echoed down the hallway, Neil would pull out his box from underneath his bed and grab his flashlight, spreading his photos across his bedsheets. Strangers in the park. Vegetables from the community garden. The Quik Mart cashier with bright blue hair. They anchored him to the present and kept the waves of his father’s anger from knocking him into sea.

Neil remembered the flicker of light that had caught Nathan’s attention. The twist of his lips as he hauled Neil by the hair to watch as he upended the contents of his box into the trash. The flash of Mary’s hair as she turned her eyes to the floor.

He remembered waiting until Nathan’s voice faded into the bedroom before sneaking back into the kitchen, biting back sobs as tiny hands wiping away spaghetti-o’s and coffee grounds. He remembered fumbling with paper towels, the back of his hand pressing against his mouth as the other blotted tomato sauce. It wasn’t until he saw the familiar smear of blue hair that his breathing evened out.

Eventually, Nathan left, and Neil and his mother decided not to stick around in case he came back. They packed what little they had left and traveled the country, before finally settling in Millport, a small town in Arizona known for its bingo and excessive amounts of gossip.

Neil was nestled against his favorite tree, the grass cool and dry against his skin. The gap between the library and the reflection pond was his favorite place on campus, free of unwanted noise and distractions. Neil was lucky. Usually, the promise of shade, a rarity in Millport, would attract dozens of students, but the lingering scent of manure and the abnormally large ant mounds became Neil’s much needed barrier to the outside world.

He lifted his face towards the sky as light filtered through the spaces between the branches, hazy as the mid-morning sun warmed. He imagined picking up his camera and finding the perfect lens flare, but his hands stayed comfortably behind his head.

“Josten!”

Neil titled his chin down to see three familiar figures eyeing him with varying shades of disapproval.

“I called you three times,” Allison said with a smack of her gum.

Even manure couldn’t keep Allison Reynolds from tracking him down. She had a nose for bullshit.

Dan and Matt nodded in unison, and Neil fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“Sorry.” Neil shifted to make room for the trio, but only Matt took up the invitation, giving Neil a half-smile as he plopped down next to him. “My phone died.” It was only a partial lie. Technically, it was wedged between the seat of his car, but it could be dead.

“That’s funny, cause Snap Map said you were in the parking garage,” Allison sniffed.

See, bullshit.

“Who the fuck came up with that anyway? Why are we making it easier to kidnap people?” Dan asked, sliding down to Matt. She pulled her knees to her chest and began ripping up blades of dry grass and placing them on top of Matt’s curls.

Allison tipped her chin towards Neil. “Have you heard this fucker’s mouth? They’d returned him the same day.”

“Thanks, Al.”

Allison flashed him her best smile.

Neil reached into his pocket before remembering his phone-in-car situation. He was supposed to meet Andrew at noon for coffee. “What time is it?”

Allison’s eyes never strayed from her screen. “11:47. Anyway, did you guys hear about the new president?”

“Trump got impeached? Thank fucking Christ.” Matt went to high-five Dan, who shoved his hand away and flicked him between the eyes.

“No, silly. For the university. President Whitman?”

Matt’s eyes widened. “P. Witty got impeached?”

Allison sucked her teeth. “Really, Dan?”

“You think they’ll find someone else with a name that rhymes with Diddy?” Matt continued, oblivious to Neil and Allison, who were holding a silent contest on who could maintain their eye roll longer.

“Whitman doesn’t rhyme with Diddy,” Neil pointed out, blinking when Allison threw a twig at him.

“Cheater,” Neil laughed.

“Not the time, Neil.” Matt threw his hands in the air, exasperated.

Dan patted his back reassuringly. “There, there, you big ass baby. Maybe this time it’ll be a woman since God robbed us of Hillary.”

Allison nodded, thoughtful.

There was a decent lapse in conversation, giving Neil just enough time to escape.

“Anyway, I have to go. I promised Andrew I would meet him for lunch before class.” Neil picked up his backpack and dusted himself off as he got to his feet.

“What class is he coming from?” Allison said, looking up. Her mouth curved into something playful.

“CogPsy,” Neil said immediately, squinting at her honeyed tone.

“And next?”

“Elementary Math, why?” Neil’s scowl deepened. He knew exactly where this was headed, and he wasn’t thrilled.

“And what did he have for dinner last night? Do you remember the first thing you said—”

Neil shot her a look.

“Okay,” Allison said, trying for coy. Neil had a growing suspicion that she was oblivious to her own bullshit. “Just wanted to know when the wedding was.”

“You do know there is such a thing as platonic intimacy, right?” Neil asked.

“All I heard was intimacy.”

“Allison,” Neil warned.

She flicked him a look. “Right, You’re Neil Josten, which means you’re fine and you don’t swing.”

“Thank you,” Neil said.

“It’s just, the way you guys look at each other sometimes—”

“Shut up, Allison,” Dan said, grabbing a hold of her wrist. “Bye, Jos. See you Friday!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this will actually be more like four chapters (but that's cause I'm adding as I edit.)
> 
> But here's something I want to address real quick. I know there's a lot of commentary out there about oblivious!Neil and how that's used to negatively reflect his sexuality and I just want to reassure everyone that that is not the case here. 
> 
> Neil is NOT oblivious. 
> 
> I can go more in-depth if need be, but I'll leave it at that for now.
> 
> Big thanks to my roommate for lettting me steal her major! I hope I did it justice! 
> 
> Forever thanks to @conniptionns for being the absolute best beta ever. 
> 
> Enjoy!

It didn't take Neil long to find Andrew. The familiar snarl of yellow hair, hunched over a table covered in papers and candy wrappers, wasn't too hard to find.

Sunlight dripped from the sky, seeping into the cracks of the sidewalk and spilling bright against Andrew's pale head.

He was bundled in his favorite sweater, a soft, faded gray, despite the brutal heat wave. Neil had found it at a local thrift store a few years back. It was worn and slightly frayed, but the material was comfortable and Neil figured it would feel nice against Andrew's skin. He hadn't said anything when Neil handed him the bag, but the stitches around the sleeves were starting to come undone.

Neil had offered to mend it, but he secretly liked pulling on the strings whenever he needed Andrew's attention—or to stop him from doing something stupid.

"What's up, Arizona?" Andrew asked, not looking up from his stack of papers.

"You live here too, Arizona," Neil said, eyeing the cardboard cup in Andrew's hand.

Andrew's expression soured. "I do not, nor will I ever, claim a state whose main attraction is a hole in the ground." Andrew caught Neil's line of sight and slid his coffee over.

Neil grinned and took a sip. "We also lead the nation in copper production."

Andrew twirled his finger in the air before returning his focus to his homework.

"Sorry I got caught up," Neil said, playing with the lid. "Allison found me."

Andrew hummed in response, distracted.

Frowning, Neil leaned over the table to grab at the papers.

"If you can tell me why 2/4 is bigger than 9/19 without using a calculator, an algorithm, and in a way a four-year-old can understand, then I'm all ears," Andrew said mildly.

Neil couldn't help but smile.

The dropout rate for early education majors was the highest their university had ever seen, with 75 percent leaving before their junior year. If someone asked Andrew why he stayed, he would say that he had already wasted four years of his life—he might as well finish. Neil saw past the flippant response to the truth underneath.

Neil saw the man that took an internship at an inner-city school, who stayed until every child was picked up, who was proud to be on a TEACH for America scholarship. Andrew stayed up all night creating lesson plans so that every child would be able to understand, spending his own time and his own money to help the kids that the school didn’t have the time or resources for. There was Bush’s No Child Left Behind policy, and then there was Andrew—holding out a hand to the kids that would be overlooked otherwise.

Andrew, incensed, had raged at Neil about the state of the American Education System more times than Neil could count. Andrew wore his apathy like a protective shield, but Neil was certain that there was no one more dedicated to those children than Andrew.

"It's bigger because two divided by four is—"

Andrew flicked his crumpled straw wrapper at Neil. "The fuck did I just say?"

"I don't know, man. I know math, not kids."

"Knowing what two divided by four is doesn't make you a math genius, asshole."

Neil shrugged and smiled. "By the way, Allison wants to know if we picked a wedding date yet."

There was a shift in Andrew’s expression, mild, but Neil still caught it. "I thought they stopped that shit."

"I mean, yeah," Neil said, twisting the cup in his hands. "It's only sometimes. I don't mind. It's you, you know? It's different when they're trying to set me up with one of Dan's dancer friends. I know you."

"It doesn't make it right. You said you don't swing, and that should be the end of it."

Neil nodded, but something kept him from verbally agreeing. He felt weird.

"Well, just for the record," Neil teased, anxious to change the vibe. "I would totally marry you for the tax benefits."

Andrew looked like he wanted to say something, but stayed silent. Neil almost asked, but then remembered his key.

"Oh, before I forget, are you gonna be home later? I've got a shoot at 6:30 and I forgot my keys." In the three years they'd known each other—two of which they'd lived together—Neil had quickly developed a habit for leaving his keys in the most inconvenient places—none of which were his pockets. He remembered breaking into his freshman dorm—his roommate, Seth, was the biggest asshole on the planet—because he’d left his key in their mini-fridge.

He remembered wondering if it were possible to scale the three storey building when a five-foot blond passed by and offered to pick the lock.

The crime was the beginning of a lifelong camaraderie **.**

Andrew threw a candy wrapper at his face. “Do I have to get you a necklace, Zoey?”

“You know I wasn’t allowed to watch television.”

“Whatever, as long as you know the secret passcode,” Andrew said, pulling a cigarette out.

Neil laughed, and watched as he lit up, the smoke curling into the air. Andrew’s secret passcode was usually a six-pack of 7-eleven’s cheapest beer.

“What’s today?” Andrew said around a mouthful of smoke.

“Engagement. They’re color coordinating.” Neil made a face. It wasn’t his passion, but it paid the bills. He’d done everything from pregnancy and wedding announcements to photoshopping in pokemon starters for nerds on campus, and though he’d had worse clients, Neil only really liked doing the new puppy announcements.

“Straights,” Andrew explained dryly.

Neil waved his camera in the air. What can he do. Something he was looking forward to, though; “Did you hear that I’m in charge of the spread for the theatre department’s fall program?”

“Well, you did text me when you found out,” Andrew replied.

“Yes, anyway, Dan’s recital is also this Friday. I was wondering if I could get a ride back?”

Dan was fantastic on stage, all graceful limbs and elegant arcs. She was a dream to photograph. She would make a great addition to Neil’s portfolio.

He’d spent the better part of a year collecting pieces to submit for ESPN’s Digital and Print Media internship. It was an unpaid position, but the connections made would propel him into the world of sports photography.

“Yes, I’ll pick you up, dumbass. When am I not your ride?”

“Does it bother you?” Neil asked, earnest.

Andrew gave Neil a calculating look, but Neil wasn’t worried that Andrew might lie. “Everything about you bothers me.”

“Oh,” Neil said with a massive grin. “I thought I had to be worried.”

Andrew made a noncommittal noise, but entered the reminder into his phone.

“I have to go pick up my car—I have the keys for that, but meet me at home?” Neil asked.

Andrew grunted in response, pulling out his keys and a Twinkie.

"That's gross," Neil said, making a face.

"You're gross. Fuck off."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for y’alls support! I'm absolutely shocked by the response this has gotten.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this listening to FOUR and nursing a michelob so uh... life imitates art. 
> 
> WOW. I didn't allow @conniptionns to read my draft until tonight, and when I did, she screamed and dragged me to the nearest building and refused to let me out until I finished this chapter. 
> 
> She is wonderful, and I'm glad she's here with me! Too good for me! I don't deserve!

"Great. Hold that," Neil said, peeking through the viewfinder. He'd gotten everything he needed fifteen minutes ago—there were only so many angles—but he snapped a few more just in case.

Neil checked his battery before saying, "Alright. I think we've got it."

"Can we take a peek?" The woman, Julie, asked, biting her lip as she smiled up at her fiance.

"Sure," Neil said, beckoning them over and securing the camera strap around his neck. He wasn't fond of people crowding him, but he'd rather be uncomfortable than replace an 800 dollar camera.

When he finished packing his car, Neil checked his phone. A missed call and voicemail from Andrew. He smiled something soft. A lesson from his mother, a forgotten memory from the days of answering machines. Voicemails were the polite way to get someone to call back, and no matter how stupid Andrew thought they were, it was one of the few indulgences he allowed Neil.

The transcription was shitty, but Neil read it over a few times anyway.

_Making sure you weren't abducted. Bring my beer. Bye loser._

Neil texted back. _Wasn't abducted. Be home soon._

Neil dropped his phone into the cupholder and climbed into the driver's seat, shoving his key into the ignition. With a twist and a mumbled prayer, the engine turned over.

He watched as the sun dipped below the horizon, the sky dripping honey, pale and gold, bright against the faded dashboard of his car. Neil almost wished he was in the passenger seat. It would make an amazing picture.

Neil made sure to pass by Joe’s Stop ‘N Shop on his way home. Joe’s was the highlight of the drunken half of Millport’s population, broken neon lights and all. They sold everything from cigarettes and beer, to fungal cream and laxatives. It wasn’t the greatest.

But it was the cheapest.

“Hey, Joe,” Neil greeted the greasy man at the register. “What’s on sale?”

“Michelob,” Joe said, not bothering to look up from his magazine.

Neil laughed. Andrew would get a kick out of that. Or maybe Andrew would kick him out.

He would just have to suffer the consequences.

* * *

Neil pulled up to their apartment complex with a grin and $6.57 in cheap beer. He took the stairs two at a time, their elevator was broken more days than not. He rapped his knuckles against their door, quiet enough to not disturb their strange neighbors.

There was shuffling on the other side before Neil heard a faint, “Passcode?”

Neil held up the six-pack in response.

There was more shuffling before Neil heard the slide of the chain as Andrew yanked their front door open. He regarded Neil with hooded eyes. “Michelob? Are we white dads at a fucking barbecue?”

“Shut up,” Neil laughed, shoving inside.

Fifteen minutes later, they were perched on their shabby couch, held together by strips of duct tape and the grace of God, their hands filled with beers and bowls of leftover pad thai.

Neil’s eyes traced the strip of skin, the exposed sliver of Andrew’s belly before his eyes snapped back, embarrassed.

Andrew’s feet were bundled in Neil’s lap—a not-so-rare indulgence. Andrew’s feet were always cold, and even though Neil had tried to explain the concept of socks, Andrew wasn’t having it.

Neil didn’t mind, though. His feet made a great resting place.

“Pretty sure it’s my turn,” Neil said, nodding towards the television.

“You picked out shitty beer, so you forfeit your TV rights.”

Neil flicked Andrew’s big toe playfully.

“Here,” Andrew said, putting down his bowl and grabbing the remote. “I’ll be a good sport. Kardashians or Love and Hip-Hop?”

“Fucking neither.”

Andrew’s affinity for shitty reality television was the literal bane of Neil’s existence.

Pulling out his phone, Andrew typed out a message before letting it fall into his lap.

Neil’s phone buzzed.

“If that is you, I swear to fucking Christ,” Neil threatened.

 _If you ask nicely, I’ll pull out the Jersey Shore reruns._ Andrew texting Neil when they were sitting side-by-side was a common occurrence, but it was about as frustrating as Andrew explaining away his love of trashy reality TV by saying he never got tired of watching the straights fuck up.

Neil’s guilty pleasure, if you could call it that, was for classic films. Andrew called them shitty retro movies. C’est la vie.

“Fine, but no Donnie Darko and no Evil Dead. I get enough fucking nightmares as is.”

Neil clicked his tongue in sympathy and was rewarded with a pillow to the face.

* * *

Maybe Andrew had spoken too soon.

Nestled in bed, Neil heard Andrew rummaging through the cabinets, a search for decaf, which usually meant Andrew had had another nightmare.

Neil flipped over onto his back and rubbed his eyes before getting up. He slipped on his vans and walked into the kitchen, grabbing their car keys. He didn’t look at Andrew, didn’t need to, as he headed for the door.

The soft tap of feet behind Neil told him he had everything he needed.

Their late night drives were frequent enough that Neil kept a few spare blankets in his trunk. He pulled them out before throwing his camera bag into Andrew’s backseat and climbing into the passenger’s side.

Andrew didn’t have a destination in mind, he never did. Neil just wanted him to drive until his grip loosened, until his jaw unclenched and the light returned to his eyes.

They drove underneath a blanket of stars until they hit a strip of Arizona desert, dry and cracked.

Andrew parked and held a hand out. Neil rummaged through the glove compartment until his fingers brushed against Andrew’s carton.

Andrew snatched it and climbed out, slamming the door.

Neil followed him.

* * *

Andrew lit a cigarette, the night air thick.

Andrew was quiet, flopping onto a patch of sand. Neil followed him without complaint, lowering himself to the ground, holding his camera high above his head.

Neil laid down on the ground, cool and rough against his skin. Neil took a few pictures of the sky. Andrew shifted next to him. He turned to point the camera at Andrew.

Andrew didn’t have a strict camera rule, but he had made it known that he wouldn’t actively participate in anything.

That was okay. More than okay. The camera did all the work, Neil only having to play with Andrew’s features. The slope of his nose, the strong line of his jaw. Neil was always taking test shots of Andrew, and since Neil kept all of his pictures, he had stashed them somewhere in an unmarked box.

The light from the moon splayed across Andrew’s cheekbones. Neil knew the pictures would come out blurry without the flash, but the scene was almost too perfect to mar with false lighting. Andrew turned to face him and Neil snapped another photo. The light from the moon was just enough to make out his features. The hollowness in Andrew’s eyes had faded, leaving behind Neil’s Andrew.

Neil smiled and took another photo of Andrew drenched in moonlight.

* * *

 They eventually stumbled into a Waffle House, burnt coffee and floor cleaner greeting them as they dropped into a booth near the back. It was their favorite seat, the formica table top was always tacky with syrup, and there was a tear in the velvet red vinyl.

The last time they had checked, it was three in the morning.

The only working waitress came to take their order. Andrew ordered coffee and a slice of strawberry-rhubarb pie, knowing Neil preferred it to the Oreo pie. Neil got coffee and an omelette.

“I don’t think we’ve ever ordered a waffle here.” Neil laughed.

Andrew said nothing.

Neil took another look at the flimsy menu, his eyes lifting over the edge to see Andrew staring at him. Neil blinked. He was used to it, but there was something different in his eyes.

“What are you thinking?”

“Nothing,” Andrew said.

Neil raised a lone brow.

The next song queued up on the jukebox started playing, and Neil was surprised that he recognized it. Something that his mother used to play in the house.

_Cause you’re having a pipe dream,_

_An ordinary pipe dream_

_Now you see him flashing right before your eyes_

_You’re having a sweet dream, a lifelong sweet dream_

_I’m the one who loves you, can’t you see?_

Andrew pulled some change from his pocket and dropped it gracelessly onto the table.

“Put something else on.”

“What’s wrong with the Blues Magoos?” Neil asked, laughing.

“Just do it.”

Andrew looked at Neil again, and Neil didn’t know why, but it left something simmering deep in his belly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh... two chapters in two days.. show ur girl some love! Leave a kudos, drop a comment! Depending on how well-received this is I may post the last chapter faster.
> 
> Also, yes. that’s a real song.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh. My friend suggested two things. 
> 
> 1) Split four into two chapters.
> 
> 2) Up the angst.
> 
> so I did. 
> 
> And he was right. Wouldn't he be glad to know. 
> 
> Also I'm making him read TFC if not for the great story, then for the added context when giving suggestions LMAO. 
> 
> Anyway, this is a wee bit late, but that's cause... my life is a mess right now lmao. BUT, I'm here, y'all. It's all good. 
> 
> Here it is! (Don't hate me.)

Friday came faster than Neil had expected. He packed up his equipment—a lonely endeavor, featuring cheap wine and a Stouffer's dinner—and headed out the door.

Neil hadn’t heard much from Andrew except for the occasional, _Out late. Don’t wait up._

Or, more recently.

_Something came up. Going out after Dan’s recital. Renee will take you home._

He didn’t want to think Andrew was avoiding him, but the feeling was beginning to take form, spreading like wildfire in Neil’s mind, bright and angry. The air around them was dense, thick with tension, and something had to give or else Neil was going to explode.

Renee offered him an easy smile as he climbed into her passenger's seat. He tried to return it, but his mouth pulled into a grimace.

“You alright?” She asked, pulling out of the parking lot. The clouds hung low, silver with rain; the sky an ashen gray, much like Neil’s insides. 

Neil’s hands balled into fists. “I figured he was staying with you.” He tried to keep it casual, but the accusation dripped from his voice like condensation on a glass.

“He’s not,” Renee’s tone was light.

It pissed Neil off.

“So you know where he’s staying. Cause obviously it’s not with me.”

“Neil—”

“You know the most fucked up part? I don’t even know—” his voice cracked, “what I did wrong?

“I’m so sorry, Neil.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry, I just. What the fuck, Renee?”

Renee let out a slow breath. “He should’ve had this conversation with you a long time ago.”

“What conversation?” Neil asked, incredulous.

“Maybe you should ask him for coffee tomorrow. See if you guys can straighten things out.”

“What— you know what this is about, don’t you?”

“It’s not my place, Neil.”

“Is he seeing someone?” Neil’s voice dropped dangerously low. Andrew usual modus operandi was casual, fleeting flings. He would’ve told Neil if he was getting serious with someone, right?

“I don’t—I just think you should talk to him, okay?”

“Great,” Neil said, curling further into the seat, letting his bitterness soak into the upholstery.

He needed to apologize. It wasn’t Renee’s fault, but the feeling inside him had simmered to a boil and anything that spilled out would be poisonous.

Renee dropped him off at the front and went to park. Neil shouldered his way through the small crowd, bright chatter buzzing around him. He considered swatting it away, but Dan was more important than brooding over a fight-not-fight with his best friend.

Brooding could come later, in the comfort of his home and a four dollar rosé.

Neil picked up his ticket from will call and hurried to find his friends. They were easy enough to find, with Dan having set aside seats in the front row.

He swallowed around his anger—a hot, violent pill—and greeted the gang, making sure not to hold eye contact with anyone for too long.

Allison, of course, saw right through him.

“Hey, big guy. Anything new?” Allison draped an arm over his shoulder, enveloping him in a cocoon of Chanel.

“No.” Neil’s eyes roamed the theatre, searching for a familiar shade of gold.

Matt turned and introduced the man beside him. “Hey, Neil! This is Kevin Day, Dan’s friend from back home.”

“Hey,” Neil leaned over and shook Kevin’s hand absently, still searching for Andrew. 

“Neil, as in Neil the Photographer,” Kevin said, his grip too warm.

“That’s me,” Neil said, distracted.

“Dan’s told me a lot about you. She said you’re thinking of applying for the ESPN internship? She’s very proud of you.”

That got Neil’s attention. “Yeah, I’m still getting my portfolio together but I plan on submitting in May.”

Kevin nodded, green eyes thoughtful. “Dan showed me a few of your pieces. You’ve got raw talent, the kind my father’s always—”

Wait. “Holy shit, you’re Kevin Day,” Neil sputtered.

“Guilty,” Kevin laughed.

Kevin Day was easily one of the best sports photographers in the world. He and his father ran the entire industry. Neil didn’t have enough fingers to count how many times Kevin’s photos made the covers of ESPN and Sports Illustrated.

There was a familiar brush of fingers near Neil’s elbow. It took everything in Neil’s power not to sneer. “Drew, this is Kevin Day from ESPN.”

The touch jarred pieces of his conversation with Renee, and a slow burn eased into his chest, filling his lungs with lighter fluid. He took a steadying breath. He needed to keep the flames in his chest from scorching Kevin Day.

“Pleasure.” Kevin offered a hand.

Andrew’s lip stiffened. “The guy you’ve got stuffed underneath your bed?”

Neil didn’t blush but it was a near thing. “Just a few of your magazine covers.”

“From ESPN,” Neil added, though he wasn’t sure why.

Kevin’s answering smile was bright. “I’m flattered, really.”

“I bet,” Andrew said, raising a brow.

_“The show is starting in five minutes. Please take your seats now.”_

Neil turned to Andrew, but the blond was gone, sliding into a seat farthest from Neil.

Neil sighed and took a seat next to Matt.

Dan was incredible, each number was smooth and lithe. Neil had to put his camera down just to watch. A few times he saw a flash of gold in the corner of his eyes, but every time he looked, Andrew was facing the stage.

They found Dan after the show. Matt all but jumped into her arms when she came out, a show of poise and glitter.

“Let’s go to Eden’s to celebrate, yeah? Show Kevin around town,” she said, wrapping her arms around his middle.

Andrew turned around and walked out. Neil trailed behind him before catching the sleeve of his sweater. Neil swallowed around the lump in his throat as his fingers grazed the strings.

"Can you tell me what the fuck is going on? Because I've got no idea." The bitterness leached from his voice.

Andrew shoved his hands into his pockets. "What are you talking about?"

"That in there?" Neil guestered to the theatre. "Or perhaps the fact that you've been avoiding me all week? Take your pick.”

"I wasn't."

"Don't give me that bullshit, Andrew. We've been doing this for too long."

"You're right. We have been doing this for too long."

Neil deflated. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Dan's waiting for you," Andrew gestured with his chin.

Neil felt every ounce of fight leave him. He felt tired. "You're being really unfair, you know that?"

Something flickered in Andrew's eyes, and Neil was so close to figuring out what it was. "I know. I—" Andrew stopped, debating.

"I know. I just need to figure some things out. I'm sorry." 

"I don't know what I did wrong," Neil's voice was a whisper.

Andrew's façade cracked. "You didn't do anything wrong, Neil. I promise. I just—" Andrew's face contorted. "need to figure things out."

"Since when did figuring shit out mean leaving me behind? When did we get to the point where we stopped talking to each other?" Neil's hands were in the air, exasperated.

“You’re right, I just...”

“Just talk to me.” Neil’s eyes blurred. “You are the most important person in my life. I feel like—"

“Just give me time.”

Andrew walked off and Neil felt the timer inside him reach zero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, if you're in love with your best friend, but you don't think they'll reciprocate, and you're thrown into an existential crisis because you don't want to make them uncomfortable, but you also don't know how to get over them: Don't avoid them for a week. It'll probably piss them off. 
> 
> Just a thought. 
> 
> Leave a kudos, drop a comment! I can't thank you all enough!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, we have reached the end. Unfortunately, I think this will be my last fic for a while. I'm 9 weeks behind on neuropsych, among other things, I don't have a place to live come fall, and I really need to focus on getting my life in order. Saying that, I do plan on returning for Big Bang so watch out ;) 
> 
> Also I'm a little tipsy but thankfully @conniptionns beta'd so not to worry! I really have to thank her for being a great beta, a fantastic cheerleader, and a better friend. She deserve all the praise in the world!  
> Thank you!
> 
> [Here's the link to a mini playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/beeberg8/playlist/3voIYnJfKTA539OZ7gU5Jo?si=4Op8Q2JZRJ-KLzAkqBvB8w/)
> 
> There WILL be an epilogue at some point. Andreil + the gang catching on!  
>    
>  ~~Also, if future fanart/fanwork were to be made they would be linked here as well. JUST SAYIN.~~

Neil stepped out of the shower and shivered, his toes curling against the cool tile. He padded through a cloud of lavender, careful not to glance at Andrew’s side of the vanity, and swiped a hand over the mirror. The condensation warped his expression, smoothing over the bitter lines and raw edges of last night’s conversation.

Neil grabbed his toothbrush and turned the water on. Sunlight poured through the cracks of their tiny bathroom, and Neil thought of hazy Sunday mornings.

Day old coffee and leftover champagne poured into pancake mix. Pawn Stars reruns and toes tucked under thighs. Afternoon naps and limbs tangled in stale comforters. Stray glances and fingertips brushing against skin.

Little pieces of their life flooded Neil’s mind like a leaky faucet. Neil shut the water off.

His phone buzzed with a text from the group chat.

_MB: What happened last night? Do I need to beat someone’s ass? I’ll do it. I ain’t shit but I’ll do it._

Neil’s mouth lifted in a half-smile.

_No. I’m fine. Sorry for ruining Dan’s night._

His phone vibrated again.

_DW: You didn’t ruin my night babyyy please! Though, I’m willing to look past this faux-transgression if you promise to come out with us! Kevin’s here until Sunday, he wants to talk with you about the internship!!_

Neil chewed his lip before tapping out a response.

_Fine. Though I reserve the right to leave before midnight._

_AR: We’ll see. ;)_

_AR: Wear those jeans I got you. The one that makes your ass look good._

Neil shuffled into his room and picked up the first thing he stepped on. Yoga pants and a sweatshirt that smelled like citrus and ashes and something entirely too familiar. He threw them on anyway, and if he pressed his nose against the fabric a few times, who would know?

With nothing else to do, Neil wandered into the kitchen and picked up a tea-stained mug. His mother’s mugs were his favorite, chipped and faded though they were. He sifted through their miscellaneous drawer, searching for wayward tea bags, before finding an unopened box of decaf green tea. He snorted. _Figures_.

He filled his mug with tap water and popped it into the microwave, sagging against the counter and rubbing at tired eyes.

Last night flashed through his mind in snapshots, and for the first time in his life, he wished he could delete the prints.

His phone buzzed against the counter. He muted the conversation and scrolled through Twitter until the microwave beeped.

There was nothing on his feed. He only ever got on for the memes Andrew sent him anyway. He closed the app and clicked the first swirl of color he saw.

The google search engine appeared. Neil typed in the first thing that came to mind. _Fighting with your best friend._

But that didn’t encompass the hole in Neil’s chest.

He tried again. _Breaking up with your best friend._

He highlighted the words and deleted them.

_Fighting with your best friend feels worse than death._

Over two million results. Neil’s finger hovered over the first link. _How do you know if you’re in love with your best friend?_

Neil backtracked quickly, his fingers shaking as he locked his phone and dropped it on the counter. 

_Was he in love with Andrew?_

He allowed himself a moment to untangle the feeling, years of thread, a thick cord, golden and strong and intricately spun.

It felt like hazy Sunday mornings.

The problem with not speaking to your best friend was that, when you had moments of crisis, you couldn’t call them. Neil briefly thought about slamming his head against the wall, but after a few deep breaths settled on calling Renee.

She picked up on the third ring. “ _Hey, Neil. What’s up?”_

“Hey, are you busy?”

_“Just finishing up a painting, but I can talk for a bit. Are you alright?”_

“Yeah.” Neil chewed on his lip. “Can I ask you something?”

“ _What’s u—_ ”

“How do you know if you’re in love?” Neil hardly recognized his voice.

There was a pause, and Neil thought his heart would explode before she spoke. “ _It’s different for everyone, Neil. Sometimes, it’s the fear of losing them. Sometimes it’s knowing that you care about that person more than anything in the world, everything fades to black, and nothing else matters more than that person’s happiness. Sometimes it’s knowing you want to spend the rest of your life with that person, despite their flaws and quirks. It varies from person to person. There’s no right way to be in love._ ”

Neil nodded, forgetting he was on the phone. The cord unraveled further, exposing layers of brightly colored strands. Blurry photographs. Lying in the sand until the desert skyline sparked. Dimly lit diners.

“ _Being asexual doesn’t mean you can’t fall in love, Neil._ ”

“I know,” Neil said softly.

“ _And there’s different kinds of love, as I’m sure you know. It doesn’t have to be sexual or romantic_ —”

“But what if it is? Or it grows into—”

“ _That’s still valid._ _Do me a favor. I’m gonna text you a link on demisexuality, and I want you to read it and call me back, okay_?”

His phone buzzed. Relief spilled over him as he read the article. He felt like the busy tone stopped and someone finally answered his call. 

* * *

Neil was at Eden’s Twilight for less than five minutes before he wanted to go home. It was Saturday night, and people were already shoving past him in search of the bar.

It didn’t take long for Dan to find him. Dressed in a glitzy sequined number, she looked every bit a star. She had Kevin in tow, poised and dressed in dark, expensive clothing.

Club lights swept across the room, and soon, everyone was dancing. Making conversation was hard, but Kevin, damn him, tried anyway. Neil wanted to be polite, but his eyes were fixed on his beer bottle more often than not.

He was giving a half-hearted explanation on his graduation plans when a familiar flash of blond stopped him mid-sentence.   

Andrew was here, and he was talking to the bartender, Roland.

Roland laughed at something Andrew said, and Neil’s stomach clenched, hot with anger.

Kevin followed his line of sight. “So, what’s up with you two?”

“What?” Neil asked, louder.

Kevin had to lean in closer to repeat himself, enveloping Neil in his heady aftershave.

It made Neil nauseous.

“Are you guys like, a thing?” Kevin’s breath was heavy in his ear. Neil fought the urge to step back.

“Why?” Neil asked, ignoring the way his heart leapt into his throat.

Kevin shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind if you weren’t.”

“A thing,” Kevin finished, looking down at his drink.

Neil’s eyes shot up. “Oh,” was all he could manage.

Neil spared another glance toward the bar before excusing himself from a bemused Kevin. He rounded up as many of his friends as he could find and told them he was done for the night. He couldn’t explain the feeling in his gut, but it was heavy and hollow at the same time, like an empty wooden chest.

He walked out into the cool evening air and flagged down the first taxi he could,pushing past gum wrappers and condom foils. The scent of old booze hung heavy in the air. 

The window was smeared in handprints. He placed a hand on the glass, but none of them matched. His hand slid down as he thought about his friends, and how none of them matched either.

But then there was Andrew. He never gave much thought to where Andrew fit in his life, he just did, the missing puzzle piece that fit his jagged edges.

He thought about how he categorized the people in his life, Dan, Matt, Allison, and Renee.

And then there was Andrew.

And hazy Sunday mornings.

Neil threw a few bills at the driver before climbing out. The street lights flickered as he crossed the parking lot, fishing in his pockets for his—

_Fuck._

He forgot his fucking key.

Neil ran a rough hand through his hair. The night couldn’t get any worse. The thick band around his chest pressed in, and he felt like he was going to collapse.

He shuffled toward his own car, praying to fucking god he left the trunk unlocked from their late-night drive. He yanked the handle, surprised that it popped open.

It was usually how he spent the nights that he forgot his keys and Andrew worked late—bundled in quilts, half-asleep in the trunk until Andrew dragged him out again.

Neil was about to plant his ass on the floor of his trunk when he spotted a small box.

He frowned and tore the package open, not remembering leaving it there. He pushed aside the tissue paper and a small, white card floated to the asphalt.

Inside was a single key threaded through a chain.

Neil bent over and picked up the card, his heart thrumming in his ears.

_Some things aren’t worth losing._

Neil read the sentence over and over until the messy scrawl blurred into a single line.

Then he was sprinting upstairs, his new key digging into his palm.

With shaky hands, Neil unlocked the front door and ran into his room, just barely avoiding headbutting the wall. He dug underneath his bed, pulling out a familiar black box.

Keeping all of his photos meant he’d grown out of the box years ago, but he still kept his favorite prints in there, the ones he couldn’t bear to part with.

He upended the box onto his bed and spread the pictures until he could see each of them clearly.

There was the familiar smear of blue hair, the comforting blur of his backyard.

And then there was Andrew.

Andrew at the fair, a blur of pink cotton candy. Andrew underneath Neil’s favorite tree. Andrew in line at the grocery store. Andrew at Waffle house, lips sticky with strawberry rhubarb pie.

Andrew. Andrew. Andrew.

The thread began stitching together, interlacing, reconnecting like new tissue.

Neil’s phone buzzed.

_Roof. Two Minutes._

Neil found the door marked “Roof Access – Maintenance Staff Only” and climbed up the stairwell. The lock was already broken. The number of times he and Andrew climbed to the roof with nothing but a pack of cigarettes, a case of beer, and each other were too many to count.

Neil pushed the door open. His eyes traced the curve of Andrew’s back, bluish tint spilling against his pale head.

Andrew was a dream cloaked in moonlight, soft and ethereal.

Neil took a seat next to the blond, unable to pull his gaze away. Andrew took out a cigarette, lighting up, the smoke thin, like silver fading into the night.

The silence was heavy, but not uncomfortable. A familiar weight, solid and unwavering.

They sat there for a few minutes, Neil looking at Andrew, and Andrew looking into the inky horizon, before Neil pulled out the silver chain.

“What things,” Neil started. “Aren’t worth losing?”

It was a long moment before Andrew spoke.

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You don’t have to protect me,” Neil said, looking at his hands, the chain glinting in the moonlight. “Not from you.”

“You’re right.”

“I don’t want to be right,” Neil laughed dryly. “If this is being right then I don’t want it.”

“What do you want?”

Neil searched Andrew’s face, the soft curve of his mouth. “I want you to be honest with me.”

Andrew took a drag, his shoulders sagging as he exhaled. He was exhausted, Neil realized.

“I’ve spent my whole life behind the camera, and I’ve never really looked at the whole picture. What do you think I would see, if I took a step back?” Neil played with the strings of Andrew’s sweater. He could feel his own spool of thread, hot and thick in his throat.

Andrew looked down, their hands a breath apart. “You would see yourself putting that damn camera in my face.”

“Exactly,” Neil laughed. “Exactly.” Softer.

Andrew looked at him, and Neil thought he could melt onto the pavement.

“Yes or no?” Andrew’s voice was a whisper, lost in the wind.

But Neil knew Andrew better than he knew anyone else.

“Always,” Neil breathed.

Andrew made a low noise in his throat before tugging their mouths together. Neil slid his fingers into Andrew’s hair, pulling lightly at the tangle of golden strands.

“I’m so in love with you,” Andrew whispered against his mouth, breathless.

Neil hummed and pulled back, finding heavy eyes laced with gold. “You should’ve said something.” His voice was husky, but from the cold or Andrew, he wasn’t sure.

Andrew ran his nose along the side of his neck, his breath warm against Neil’s face. “I didn’t want you to think that I wanted to change who you are.”

“Nothing about me has changed. Nothing about the way I feel about you has changed, either.”

Andrew nipped his lip.

“Well, maybe that has changed,” Neil laughed against Andrew’s mouth. “I just… it’s always been different with you. It always has been. I just—needed to do some introspection.”

The kiss lacked finesse, all tongue and teeth, but they laughed because finally. Finally.

Neil dropped a frozen hand into his pocket and dug around for what he was looking for. A sloppy, off-center flash made Andrew pull off Neil with an obscene sound. Neil had his phone in his hand and a slightly guilty look on his face.

“Always putting that damn camera in my face.”

“This time I’m behind it with you. I always want to be behind it with you.”

The flash on his phone had turned their skin blue in the night, but it was Neil’s favorite picture of them because it was a picture of two best friends in love.

Because that’s what they were. Two best friends in love.

* * *

 _No matter what category you fit into,_  
_Truth’s got its sight set on you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment if you've enjoyed this as a whole! I worked super hard on it! Thank you so much!
> 
> (I'm gonna go fuck off and finish my fiction piece that's due tomorrow bye.)


End file.
